


A Little Bit Deadly

by marginalia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-30
Updated: 2004-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:55:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia
Summary: The first time she punches him, her breath comes fast and her cheeks flush pink.





	

Anyone could have seen it coming, if only they had paid the least bit of attention.

The thing about people is that they so rarely do.

::

The first time she punches him, her breath comes fast and her cheeks flush pink.

He touches his fingers to his lips, and brings them away spotted with blood. His eyes are ice, but later, alone in the washroom, he teases the wound and smiles.

::

Every day is a high school dance or a youth gang fight or both, teams circling. It's choreographed like a Muggle action film, playing through a script of insults and rehearsed violence.

They're both waiting.

::

He stops insulting Potter. It's not worth the effort.

She looks at him briefly, heavy-lidded eyes unreadable.

::

When he gets the mark, he refuses any potions to dilute the pain. He thinks it only slightly odd that a sign that means death makes him feel so very alive. He fucks a sixth year boy soon after it heals. After, the kid wants to touch it. Draco pushes him away, shrugs his robes onto his shoulders, and strides angrily back to his room.

::

 _It'll be soon_ , Luna says, and laughs, high and musical.

No one listens.

::

In the end, he goes to her. He is more surprised than anyone. He kisses her. He half-expects her to have a cleft tongue. She bites his lip, pulls back, slaps him across the face.

_Sit._

The chair is heavy and high-backed, with no arms. He sits backwards, like a macho American, and his chin rests on the back. He cannot see her, but he knows she's smiling. He can hear her breathing behind him, slowly. He can almost hear her thinking. Her uniform robes rustle as she moves to tie his hands and feet. Her brow is furrowed in concentration.

He is certain that she has never done this before. But he is equally certain that she knows exactly what she is doing.

He waits, curled around the back of the chair. His cock twitches as she circles him. Assessing.

The first strike falls on his left shoulder with a snap, heat rushing. Then one to the right, then three in quick succession, working down his back. He jerks into the chair, but it is Charmed in place. He clenches his jaw and waits. Two more, and he's twitching in his bonds, trying to flee even though he knows it's impossible. Again, and he grinds forward into the back of the chair. Another whistles through the air, and it cuts through his shirt.

 _Talk to me_ she purrs, settles into a rhythm, tears through silk and skin. How does she do it, how is it that she's so strong, they're making Mudbloods of sterner stuff than they used to.

But he's the one who's bleeding. He hisses, spits, swears through clenched teeth.

The world explodes, red, behind his eyelids.

::

She cuts him free, leads him to her bed, and lays him back. He's writhing. He's spreading blood on her sheets. He doesn't care. He can't think. She undoes his trousers and frees him, opens her robes, and settles on top of him. She's sweet and hot and moves so slowly he thinks he'll go mad. Then he thinks he's gone mad already. Her hands are strong on his chest, pushing him back into the mattress, rubbing his raw back. She moves faster and he comes quickly, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. She follows, falls gently on him, soft and damp with sweat.

::

After, she turns him over, then draws out a jar of salve and rubs it on with cool fingers. It smells slightly of citrus. It burns. She whispers a charm to pull free any fibers from the wounds. He arches into her touch. He almost purrs.

::

Anyone could have seen it coming.


End file.
